Thought for the Day: Tattoos and the Extraordinary Sensitivity That the Torah Expects of Us

I grew up with this story: My father was a bit on the wild side, so he and his father decided he should enlist in the navy when he was 17. My grandmother was not thrilled, but also realized being on an aircraft carrier off the coast of Korea -- in spite of the, ahem, conflict -- was the best way to ensure my father's safety. She made two requests/demands of my father: "Don't get any tattoos and don't bring back a war bride." My father honored both.

As a result, I never, ever, not even once, had any interest in getting a tattoo. The other morning, a person whom I am deeply honored to call a friend asked me about tattoos. You already know my feelings about tattoos, but he didn't. In any case, I told him the ink goes underneath the outer layer of skin (epidermis) -- which is dead and constantly being shed -- and is injected into the dermis -- not the underlying muscle. That is why the ink doesn't rub off. I wasn't sure how the ink stayed there for so long, so I checked when I got home. It is actually a very cool process that depends on the immune system. The immune system includes macrophages, whose job is to isolate and break down foreign material in the body. The dermal macrophages are immune cells that engulf tattoo ink particles in the skin's dermis. The ink molecules are big and do not break down, the ink-filled macrophages are trapped, making the tattoos permanent. The macrophages aren't immortal, but when they die, the ink is released and new macrophages come to the rescue, starting the cycle over again.

I was excited to share this additional information the next morning. I walked in -- all excited -- and my friend looked at me and said, in a relatively stern voice, "I am a little upset." "With me? Why?"

Before I tell you his response, let me preface that when he first asked me the question, I was a little taken aback. I don't remember exactly what I said, but between my words and body language, the best rendition would be: You think that just because I am a ger I must know about tattoos?!

Back to our story: My friend said, a bit hurt, "I didn't ask you about tattoos because you are a ger; I asked you because you are smart." Ah. We then discussed that Rashi in Yisro (Sh'mos 18:9):

וַיִּחַדְּ יִתְרוֹ. וַיִּשְׂמַח יִתְרוֹ, זֶהוּ פְּשׁוּטוֹ. וּמִדְרַשׁ אַגָּדָה נַעֲשָׂה בְשָׂרוֹ חִדּוּדִין חִדּוּדִין, מֵצֵר עַל אִבּוּד מִצְרַיִם, הַינוּ דְּאָמְרֵי אִינָשֵׁי "גִּיּוֹרָא עַד עֲשָׂרָה דָּרֵי לָא תְבַזֵּי אֲרַמָּאָה בְּאַפֵּיהּ"

Jethro was happy. Heb. וַיִחַדּ, and Jethro rejoiced. This is its simple meaning. The Aggadic midrash, however, [explains that] his flesh became prickly [i.e., gooseflesh (חִדּוּדִין חִדּוּדִּין)] [because] he was upset about the destruction of the Egyptians. This is [the source of] the popular saying: Do not disgrace a gentile in the presence of a convert, [even] up to the tenth generation. — [from Sanh. 94a]

 NB: Chabad.org Torah Texts is a wonderful resource.

There is nothing wrong with being a ger. In fact, while one is forbidden to mention that someone is a ba'al teshuva (that is, someone who grew up frum, then went off the derech, and is now finding his way back), there is no such prohibition to saying that someone is a ger. Quite the opposite, it is a tremendous praise to say that someone came in from the dark, so to speak, to join Klal Yisrael. Nonetheless, we have to be sensitive to what they have experienced and how hearing certain things could be painful for them.

At that point we realized this is not just about gerim. Chazal are using the example of gerim -- where the pain points are obvious -- to teach us the necessity of being sensitive to how a person's experiences color their response to completely innocent remarks.

To further illustrate the point, my friend related that he used to daven at a certain shul and enjoyed a seat next to a very refined and gentle older man. One Shavuos it was crowded in the morning and kiddush was downstairs. Since there was only one staircase, the gabbai made an announcement, "Men should go to the right and women should go to the left." Upon hearing those instructions, the normally refined and gentle older gentleman became incensed and started yelling, "How dare you talk to us like that! How dare you tell us to walk that way!"

The man was a holocaust survivor. Those instructions sending some to the left and some to the right was a trigger. Of course everyone immediately understood what had happened and worked diligently, with understanding and sensitivity to defuse the situation.

I think the "takeaway" is that sometimes we say or do something that elicits a wildly inappropriate response. Instead of responding in kind, we need to step back and realize that the response is only inappropriate in our eyes because we have no idea what this person has experienced and what trigger we may have just pulled.

The Torah is not forbidding us to accidentally hurt someone's feelings. Rather the Torah is demanding that we respond with kindness and sensitivity, even when we don't know what the trigger was.